


Never Alone

by YesYourGrace



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesYourGrace/pseuds/YesYourGrace
Summary: After the Battle of Manhattan a young and suddenly world weary Will Solace seeks some comfort from his mother and struggles with whether the life of a demigod is even really worth it.
Kudos: 8





	Never Alone

Never Alone

Will’s hands were still shaking when he and Oliver left the taxi. Oliver turned to pay the cab driver, stumbling a little in his mortal disguise. Will looked around and clutched at the strap of his satchel with both hands. His nerves felt raw and frayed being back in the city again after… he squeezed his eyes shut to drive out the flashbacks.

“You okay?” Oliver’s hand on his shoulder shook his thoughts back to the present.

“I think so,” he replied. They started down 39th to the concert hall. It may have been late but in the city six at night and one in the morning might as well have been the same time. The city that never sleeps, they called it. Will looked at the satyr walking alongside him to take his mind from the past. He would have to mentally relive it soon enough.

“Are you sure you’re okay with waiting on me?” Will asked. Oliver nodded brightly.

“Oh sure, unless you would rather I stick around, whatever’s easier for you. I’ll find a spot to crash for the night with some friends. Meet you at the diner in the morning just like we talked about.” Will wondered what friends a satyr had in the city that would allow him to show up unannounced in the middle of the night and stay.

“Yeah, that works. Thank you, by the way.” Oliver gave him a soft smile tinged with something akin to pity.

“Think nothing of it, Will. This summer was…” he trailed off letting the sentence finish itself. The satyrs at camp had been trying to help the year around kids cope with the events of the summer. Most year around kids didn’t have a mortal parent or home to go home to, but some, like Will, had loving parents who only felt their child was safer staying at camp. Oliver had been the satyr who had found and collected Will when he was ten, an odd instance of a dropped class hamster that made a miraculous recovery. Now he was all too glad to help will visit his mom while she was in the city.

“Oh boy…” Oliver said as they turned the corner and faced the front of the concert hall. People had begun to leave the concert and a large crowd had queued up outside to wait for the performers to emerge. Will’s heart started to pound in his throat at the sight of so many people. When he was a young child, he had been made to run for his life from more than one show going person that turned out to, in fact, not be a person. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that those chances were pretty slim. He hadn’t even told his mom he was coming, and besides, the monsters weren’t bold enough to go out in the city again yet… he hoped.

“I can stay, if you need,” Oliver said quietly next to him. Will stayed still another moment urging his heart to slow down. He couldn’t afford to be afraid like a little boy anymore. He was thirteen now, after all, and head counselor. He fingered the beads around his neck.

“No, that’s okay, Ollie. Thanks again. I’ll see you in the morning?” Oliver gave him a kind smile before patting his shoulder and nodding.

“Yeah, man. See you tomorrow.” Oliver walked away, disappearing in the throngs of people throughout the city.

Will approached the security guard.

“Excuse me, I need to go back to the tour bus, I’m-“ the guard cut him off with a sarcastic, “no sir, you don’t. Backstage passes to meet the group won’t even get you back there. Press badges only.”

“But-“ Will tried to butt back in and at the very least finish his sentence.

“Go home, kid, it’s late.” He felt the sting of frustrated tears in his eyes and stoked the fire of anger in his belly to fend them off.

“But I’m her son! You can’t tell me I can’t see my own mom!” The security guard just raised an eyebrow. Two more came to join him. Three against one now. Will let out a very indignant, “ugh!” and kicked a nearby railing, ruing the fact that he had a celebrity for a mom.

“Fine!” he yelled and began to turn away. Maybe he’d be able to catch up to Oliver. Or he’d wander around the city, alone, attracting anything brave enough to have come back to the city so soon. The compounding emotions and stresses building inside his chest finally erupted. With a guttural shout he spun back to the security guards and lunged at them.

Security guards are supposedly trained to look for threats but when a barely thirteen-year-old comes at them, teeth barred and blue eyes flashing with a rage and intensity beyond his years, they are woefully unprepared. He went for the one in the middle who’d told him to, ‘go home, kid’, punching him in the gut. He doubled, over and another guard seized him around the middle and tried to pull him back. The growing crowd of onlookers erupted in cheers of approval behind them, or so he thought.

“William Andrew Solace!” her familiar southern drawl was unmistakable. He stopped; a fist still raised to strike again. His mother strode over, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. Long blond waves fell around her shoulders and her stage clothes sparkled in the bright lights. “What is Sam hell has gotten into you, young man?” She asked, her voice lower now. The security guards looked at each other in confusion but the one holding Will tentatively released him. Will opened his mouth to speak but all that came were tears that blurred his eyes and seized his throat. Her shock and indignation at his riotous behavior quickly turned to concern. “I got it from here, fellas,” she said to the security team and quickly collected him from the prying eyes and cameras.

The walk backstage to her dressing room was a blur of lights and noise; Her firm reassuring hands on his shoulders guiding him. Eventually she sat him down on an armchair and closed the door. At the click of the latch, Will lost it. For the first time since the battle he cried freely like the child he still was, the boy he could no longer be. His mother sat on the arm of the chair, wrapped him in her arms, and let him cry. He didn’t know if the passing time was a few minutes or a few hours. When he at last calmed down she released him enough to hold his face in her hands and wipe his tear streaked face.

“Baby, what happened? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Are you okay?” She brushed a few disheveled blond locks from his face. His chin trembled again but he squeezed his eyes shut and forced it down.

“Sorry I didn’t call; I didn’t want anything to know I was coming. I don’t have another fight like that in me right now.” She nodded, understanding.

“Those security guards looked pretty mortal to me.” She joked. He choked out a watery laugh and wiped off his cheeks.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that too. I just needed to get back here and they weren’t going to listen to me and-“ he stopped and took a breath to steady his thoughts, “I got desperate.”

“Well, I hear that darlin’ but desperate or not that kind of behavior might get you a night in a holding cell.” Will nodded. “But I’m sure you aren’t this upset over some security guards.” Will shook his head glumly.

“Momma, there was a battle…” he didn’t know how to put it into words. She stared at him, eyes wide.

“What do you mean, ‘battle’?” she asked but her face and her voice betrayed what she imagined to be true. He looked at his hands in his lap. “Oh lord…” she let the shock of it sink in before continuing. “When?”

“Little over a week ago. It was right here in Manhattan. I’m okay though,” he added, raising his hands in a placating gesture, “I didn’t get hurt.” He fingered his necklace again as though he could feel each person whose name was on his bead. “Its just, well, a lot of other kids weren’t so lucky. Michael’s gone, Lee’s dead,” he paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Now I’m in charge of the Apollo cabin and I’m the oldest child left. How is that possibly fair? I just turned thirteen! I can’t be in charge of anything! And tell me how I’m supposed to mentor the younger kids and make them feel safe? If I’d shown up and seen that the oldest kids left were barely teenagers, I would’ve turned tail and run for the hills so fast!” I would’ve taken my chances in Texas!” He was aware that he was shouting. He was aware that it was a hysterical shout, but he didn’t give a damn anymore. Everything he’d been ruminating on for days was rushing out of him with more force than he had to stop it. “I have seen more kids die this year than I thought I’d see in a lifetime and, and-“ he sank back into the chair and gripped his hair in his fists. “I’m scared, momma,” he finally whispered.

Naomi pulled her son close and he wrapped his arms around her holding on to her like the last shreds of the person he had once been. He took a deep breath and reveled in the familiarity of her. Her perfume, the kind of scratchy texture of her stage clothes, and the way her blond hair always fell in his face when she would lean down and kiss the top of his head. If he closed his eyes and just let his mind wander, he could imagine he was at home on his Nana and Papa’s ranch with the sun baking the arid landscape and nothing but sky and horizon for miles. His heart ached in his chest for that home.

“Come home then, darlin’”, Naomi finally spoke into the silence. “You don’t owe that world anything, certainly not your life. I’ll cancel the rest of my tour and we can just go home.” Will drew back in shock. He had expected her comforts, but he hadn’t even considered she might tell him to stay. They had decided years ago that the safest bet for Will was to live at Camp Half-Blood protected behind magical borders, trained, and educated to handle this world he’d been born into. The idea that she might so quickly rescind that decision was unimaginable. Yet here she was, deciding to take him home and halt her career as though she were deciding what to make for dinner.

“Mom, I- I mean, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know you think that, but you don’t deserve to live like this either. No son of mine is going to be a child soldier, half divine or not! I sent you to that camp because I was told you’d be much safer there!”

“I AM safer there, mom, it was just-“

“Clearly you aren’t as safe as I was made to think if you’re being sent off to battle, William.” There was a knock at the door. Naomi rose and spoke in hushed tones with someone on the other side of the door. She closed it again and turned back to him. “I’ve got to go handle some things, but we can talk about it more after you get some rest. I love you, baby.” She kissed his head again and passed a blanket to him from a storage tote on the other side of the room, an afghan from home that she always toted around with her. He wrapped it around himself gladly and she smiled at him before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

For a while he laid there in the quiet with his thoughts, wrapped in the smell and comfort of home, and imagined trying to go back to just being a normal boy. The thoughts were so foreign to him now, imagining going to school on a daily basis, homework to do, chores on the ranch. And of course, the regular monster there to kill and/or eat him before third period. Will shook his head. He thought about his lessons with Chiron on medicinal plants or his archery training. He thought about the elations from winning camp games with Cecil or wandering the woods with Lou Ellen. He thought about the people he had barely gotten a chance to know. Sure, if he left he might be safer from the dangers of their world but if he stayed he might be the difference between one of their lives or deaths. No, he knew he was in too deep now to just leave. His heart ached for his childhood home, but he was beginning to accept that _that_ version of Will Solace was dead. He was a hero now whether he liked it or not and the only thing left to do was keep pushing forward.

He woke up to the dark space of the tour bus. His mother must have had someone carry him out there, he knew darn well that she couldn’t do it anymore. It didn’t matter that curtains were drawn, and the space was near total darkness, Will always woke up on his father’s time. He made his way out of the bed loft and down into the main body of the tour bus. He found his mother asleep on a short couch, her sandy hair ruffled and disheveled around her face.

“I’m sorry, momma,” he whispered. He saw his satchel near the door and scooped it up. Pulling the strap over his head his gaze fell on his mother’s song book on a nearby table. The sight of his own name caught his interest, and he couldn’t help his prying eyes. The top of the page read: A Song for Will. Below it the poem was scrawled out with scribbles and modifications, but she had underlined the parts she planned to use.

_May the angels protect you  
Trouble neglect you  
And heaven accept you when it's time to go home_

_May your tears come from laughing  
You find friends worth having  
As every year passes  
They mean more than gold  
May you win and stay humble_

_And know when you stumble  
You're never alone_

It felt incomplete but the sentiment spoke volumes. She understood that he couldn’t stay, and in her own way she was sending him off with her blessing. He quietly tore a blank page from the book, scribbled down the words, and tucked the slip of paper into his bag. He looked at her one last time before slipping out of the van as quietly as he could. Outside the sunlight was just warming the horizon and the diurnal part of the city was waking up as well. He took a deep breath of vaguely unpleasant city air and started down the sidewalk toward Mel’s diner to meet up with Oliver.

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me for my utter lack of knowledge regarding the urban geography of Manhattan. I've never been there and am not exactly the most keen to change that. Also, the lines of the song/poem are based off of the song, Never Alone by Jim Brickman and Lady Antebellum. This song inspired the whole one-shot. I heard it and it immediately made me think of their relationship. If you get a chance go give it a listen.


End file.
